The Storm
by IndigoRiot
Summary: As tensions rise in the run up to the tournament - the All-Stars Battle Royale - Hilary and Tyson get into a blazing row. With dark clouds brewing over the mountain and Hilary nowhere to be found, will their friendship survive the coming storm? And, more importantly, will they survive at all? T for Language.
_**A/N:** For context, this takes place shortly after the first book in my series, Only The Young I: Convergence. Basically, there's a tournament, and everyone involved has headed up into the mountains to train and get to know each other before the competition heats up. If you haven't read it, go ahead and check it out. :3_

* * *

 **The Storm**

"Aaand left! Loop around the stump, and hairpin turn! Now over the stump! That's it guys, way to go! Make your coach proud!" Hilary cried gleefully, completely in her element.

It was a warm, bright, sunny morning in the Colorado Mountains and in the far courtyard of the mountainside training retreat, the Bladebreakers were hard at work practising with their new metal-series beyblades. Heavier than the previous systems, these blades required more energy to get spinning, and then even more focus to _keep_ them spinning. It was a race against the clock – they only had two weeks to train at the retreat before the start of the collaborative All-Starz Battle Royale tournament, but if anyone could master a new beyblade series within such a short time, they could. At least, that's what Kenny was hoping.

Chief finished upgrading Kai's Dranzer first; as with everything else in the teen's life, Kai _already_ had the best equipment available, so it would take minimal time and effort to upgrade. All it took was a bit of fine tuning on Kenny's part and a switch to an updated, custom-made attack-ring (something more streamlined and better catered to Kai's style) and the pale, dual-haired blader was ready to go on their first morning at the retreat centre – a Thursday.

Rei was up next. Having spent the majority of the past year and a half back home in China, he was the most cut-off and isolated from the mainstream beyblading scene. Driger would need a complete remodel. It took the rest of Thursday afternoon for Dizzy to draw up the schematics of Rei's new blade and run through digital trials and prototypes. On Thursday night, Kenny and Rei worked until late to get the first prototype up and running for trials in the morning. Friday was spent ironing out the tweaks in Driger's new design – tuning the attack-ring, re-balancing the weight disk, counter-balancing the gears. It wasn't until later on in the evening that Kenny put down his tools, sighed and smiled and called Rei to tell him the good news that Driger was ready to rock and roll.

Max, being a near constant presence in his dad's hobby shop – when he wasn't a) at home studying, or b) attached to his Gameboy and/or Tyson – was confident enough in his abilities to upgrade Draciel's system himself. So, while Kenny was hard at work upgrading Driger, Max was by his side working on Draciel (under Dizzy's instruction and Kenny's watchful eye, of course). To give credit where credit is due, however, Max came up with a design to encompass two defence rings that could spin independently of the rest of the blade, increasing his defensive potential in battle as well as his margin for endurance. When he finished the prototype and came bounding towards Kenny for a once-over on Friday night, there was very little the small, bespectacled mechanic could say to criticise its design. It only took minimal tweaking and rebalancing on Saturday morning before Max was ready to join Kai and Rei and let it rip.

Then, only Tyson remained. Now, if Hilary had worried that being the last to upgrade his blade would get his boxers in a twist, then she was dead wrong. You see, even though he was used to getting preferential treatment from Kenny when it came to upgrades (hey, Tyson _had_ known him longest and, besides, after securing the championship title for his team he was basically the poster boy for beyblading now, so of course he had preferential treatment!), Tyson was in _his_ element too.

The retreat everyone was sent on wasn't simply an open-invitation, 'fine-tune your beyblades and refine your technique while hanging out in the mountains' kind of holiday. Far from it. All eight of the participating teams were very busy. Every morning, there was some kind of team-building challenge – some of which incorporated beyblading, and others which didn't. On one morning, there, there was a 'capture the flag' type of challenge which pitted each team against each other: each team had their base, and a flag to protect (via a beybattle). The aim of the game was to find the other team's bases, take _their_ flags and secure them back at base. By noon, the team with the most flags won. The Blitzkrieg Boys won that round, securing two other team's flags (including the Bladebreaker's, much to Kai's chagrin - all of which was, of course, directed at Tyson) and protecting their own flag throughout. The Saint Shields came a close second, though, still gaining two flags but losing their own in the process. The Majestics broke even; they were the only team not to gain a flag at some point – however, they were the only team (besides the Blitzkrieg Boys) not to lose theirs, either.

Another such game was reminiscent of 'King of the Hill'. This time, they all had to cooperate with another team: the Bladebreakers with the Majestics; the Blitzkrieg Boys with the Psykicks; the BEGA Battalion with the Saint Shields; the White Tigers with the All-Starz. There were two main areas to defend from the other teams, each of which had a massive beydish in the centre. Each ten-minute interval that a team had control of an area counted towards their point total – if a team controlled both 'hills' their points tripled (control of an area constituted of each team member's blade being present in either dish simultaneously – if even one was knocked out, control was contested. After a knock out, the blader would have to wait through a fifteen minute cool-down period before joining the dish again). For the first half of the game, it was anybody's to win, although the leaders of the pack on one side were, of course, the Bladebreakers and the Majestics, and on the other, the Blitzkrieg Boys and the Psykicks. During the last half-hour, however, Bryan, Tala and Kane somehow managed to infiltrate and wrestle control of the hill away from Kai and Johnny's teams and secure the lead. Again, much to Kai's chagrin. Tala was grinning so wide the entire time that Kai began to wonder if the wind had blown and stuck his face that way, and Tyson subconsciously began to avoid Kai, in fear for his life.

Anyway, with all of these distractions in the mornings, and the evenings free for open battles, Tyson was in his element and having an absolute blast. Therefore, even though it was late on Sunday afternoon before Kenny was finished with Dragoon's upgrades, Tyson hardly noticed that it had taken so long at all.

"Alright!" he yelled, fist-pumping. "Now it's time to take back the lead! I'll remind those Blitzkrieg Boys who's the champ!"

"Careful, Tyson, don't cut yourself on Dragoon, he's much… sharper," Kenny warned, but the teen was already bounding away.

Three days passed and now it was Wednesday again – a full week since they'd arrived.

"Now, cycle back around the bench and slalom through the cans!" Hilary chanted, pointing the way as two beyblades, one grey and one blue, followed her every order. "That's it, you've got it! Now over the balance beam!"

Now, Hilary _had_ been wrong about her worries that Tyson would gripe about being left for last. What she wasn't wrong about, however, were her worries that his confidence would be knocked when he discovered just how tricky the metal system was to control. On Monday, when he'd launched Dragoon into a dish and couldn't make it go left or right, let alone execute _any_ of his moves, he'd spent the rest of the day steaming from the ears and yelling at his blade. On Tuesday, there was some improvement – though not enough – and so he'd spent the rest of _that_ day yelling at other people who happened to cross his path. Now it was Wednesday and he was still yelling, though with more… colourful additions to his language.

"Attack now, Dragoon! I said attack! No, left – _left_ you useless, stupid, fu -"

"For the last time, Tyson, _control_ _yourself_ ," Kai ordered, turning his back on the drills with Hilary and narrowing his eyes at his livid teammate. Kai, who'd had the longest time to practise with his new Dranzer, and who was arguably the most disciplined of the team, had almost mastered the metal series. Even with his back turned, Dranzer completed its stretch across the balance beam perfectly, with not a single lapse in balance or rotation.

"Butt out, Kai!" Tyson yelled back. "I _can_ control myself, it's this _stupid_ blade I can't control, okay? I think it's broken!"

"Just relax, Tyson, you'll get the hang of it," Rei said encouragingly. He glanced over the courtyard to look at Tyson, at which point Driger slipped off the balance beam. He sighed. He was getting better, but it still wasn't good enough. Patience, he told himself. Practise, patience, and time.

"Tyse, we can call it a day if you want," Max offered hesitantly, looking across the beydish from Tyson. As soon as he saw the look on his friend's face, he knew it was a bad idea.

"What, you think I can't handle it?" Tyson spat, his good humour from the previous week entirely evaporated. He urged Dragoon towards Draciel again, but instead he simply circled weakly around it. Max didn't even have to dodge that time! Pathetic!

"No, that's not what I said," Max groaned, growing tired of Tyson's attitude. "It's just, well, you can't blade properly when you're angry, man. I think you need to -"

"Well _I_ think _you_ need to stop telling me how to play the game, Max. Dragoon – attack! Do it now!" Tyson roared.

Something about Tyson's resolve may have shifted because at his words, Dragoon immediately shot forwards. However, forwards was _not_ the direction in which Max's Draciel was. The blue and white beyblade hit the edge of the dish, bounced back, ricocheted off Draciel at an angle and whizzed past Tyson, shredding past his shoulder.

"Arghh – _shit!_ " Tyson hissed, reaching up to grab the place where Dragoon made impact. The hand came away red.

Before anyone could act further, there was a scream. Everyone turned around in time to see Hilary run away from a falling branch – cut down courtesy of Tyson's blade. The heavy branch crunched noisily to the ground exactly where she had been standing moments ago, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Hilary, are you okay?" Max cried, abandoning Draciel in the beydish and running over to his friend.

"Of course she's okay," Tyson griped without sympathy, trying to stop the bleeding at his shoulder and searching around the area for his beyblade. "The stupid thing didn't even touch her."

"Hey, that's not cool, Tyson," Rei said, stepping away from the wreckage of the tree himself.

"It's true!" Tyson yelled, turning around. "It was nowhere near her!"

"It was close enough," Kai decided, stepping forward with a quiet but clear authority in his voice. "You need to keep your temper in check, Tyson, before you _actually_ hurt someone -"

"What planet have you been on, Kai? _I'm_ already hurt," he said obviously, gesturing at his shoulder, "but you don't see me complaining!"

"- Someone _other_ than your pig-headed self," Kai clarified coolly. "Hey Chief," he called, turning around and walking towards the boy at the far end of the clearing who, so far, had managed to steer clear of the hostilities. When Tyson saw Kai hand his Dragoon over to Kenny, he lost it.

"Dude, _what_ do you think you're _doing_?" Tyson said, marching over with balled fists. "I need to practise!"

Kenny cowered behind as Kai gripped Tyson by the arm and pulled him away.

"Damage limitation. _You_ need to quit acting like a toddler and get a hold of yourself," Kai sneered. "Although I can see why that might be difficult for you." Kai knew that his mocking would do nothing to improve Tyson's temper, but sometimes there was no resisting the urge to wind him up. Besides, this tantrum was beyond ridiculous. He'd thought Tyson was better than this. Apparently, he was mistaken.

"Arghh, that's it," Tyson said, shrugging his arm out of Kai's grip. "I've just about had enough of you and your arrogance, Kai! You think you're so good, huh?"

"Clearly. _I'm_ not the one struggling to make a left turn."

Kai's smirk was like a red flag to a bull, and Tyson was on a rampage. "Why you -"

"Guys, that's enough!" Hilary cried, running towards them and trying to break up the hostilities. "Fighting isn't going to help any of us, and we can't afford to have a crisis now – there's only a week left until the tournament!"

"Exactly! Tell that to captain dicklord over here -"

"Captain _what?_ "

"- He's the one threatening the tournament! How am I supposed to practise without my blade?"

"Guys, guys – _look_ ," Hilary pleaded, now physically putting herself between the two. "You know, we've been training _all_ morning -"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure your voice is exhausted," Tyson shot condescendingly.

Hilary took a deep breath and ignored him, doing her very best to continue on in placid tones, "I think we could all do with a break. A little rest might be good for us."

"Not you too, Hil," Tyson muttered, folding his arms, and wincing when the motion tugged at his still bleeding shoulder.

"Besides," Hilary added, her hands flying out automatically to fuss around Tyson's wound, "we should probably get your arm looked at by the first aider -"

Tyson roughly swatted away the girl's hands. "Don't treat me like a child. What do you think I am, five years old or something?"

Hilary snatched her hands back, outrage sparking in her ruby eyes. "You know, Tyson, if you don't want us to treat you like a child, then _maybe_ you should stop acting like one!"

"Jeez! Back off, alright?" Tyson yelled, pacing around stormily. "I've had it with all of you, all you've done since we got here is moan, and nag, and throw your stupid advice at me when I don't even need it! No wonder I can't concentrate! I know how to blade, alright? I've got the stupid title to prove it! So I don't need any of your help!"

"Well, you could have fooled me," Hilary retorted scathingly. "Kai's already got the new metal series down, and Rei and Max aren't far behind, either."

"What are you trying to say, huh?" Tyson growled, stepping forwards. He knew all too well that he was the only one who couldn't manage his blade – that's why he was so frustrated. That's why he wanted everyone to back off. Tyson was the _world champion._ He had a _title_ to defend. He couldn't _afford_ to be shown up like this, and the tournament was only a week away! The pressure was on, and all they wanted to do was waste time yelling at him. "Well, Hilary?"

"I mean _you're_ the only one who's struggling with the new metal series, Tyson," Hilary growled back, prodding him in the chest. They were nose to nose and glaring hotly at each other. Or rather, Hilary was. Tyson's eyes were hard and cold. "Did you ever think that maybe your temper and your big, fat head has something to do with that?"

"Oh yeah, and what would you know about that anyway, huh?" Tyson demanded, directing his anger at her, instead. How dare she insult him? "What do you even know about beyblading?"

Hilary stepped back for a moment, and her hand flew instinctively to her chest. She was shocked by Tyson's cruel tone of voice. But then she recovered, and bit back. "Well, for one, I know that you need a clear head to blade properly which, I'm sorry Tyson, you haven't had in days! If you carry on like this, you're going to show us all up next week!"

"She's right, Tyson. You need to chill out, man," Rei agreed, "before you bust a vein or something."

"Hah? 'She's right'? _Her?_ Don't make me laugh, Rei," Tyson said. "She can't even blade! She couldn't even _see_ bitbeasts until last autumn! She's useless!"

"T- Tyson…?"

"That's way out of line, Tyse," Max said, his tone now far removed from its usual pleasantness. He didn't like the flash of hurt he caught in Hilary's eyes at Tyson words. Best friend or not – he was being unreasonable. And Hilary was his friend too, he wouldn't let anyone speak to her like that, it wasn't right. "Since Hilary joined our team, our game's been better than ever. I _know_ that I wouldn't have made this much progress with my new blade if it wasn't for her."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tyson sneered, his anger growing by the second. He'd been seething with rage at his incompetence with Dragoon for days and now it was all spilling over, completely out of his control. He was practically shaking with it. "Max, we made the _championships_ without her – we _won_ the championships without her! I'm a world champ, and it doesn't have _anything_ to do with her!"

"That – that's not fair, Tyson!" Hilary said, but her voice was much smaller than before, and there was a lot of hurt in it.

"No, you know what's not fair? Getting bossed around every day by the likes of you," he spat. "Bossing me around at school, at home, during practice – by a stupid no-nothing little girl like you!"

"Why are you being so… so poisonous?" Hilary gasped. "All I've ever done is try and help!"

"Hah! Newsflash, Hilary – I don't _need_ your help. I was fine before you came along, and I'd be fine without you. In fact," Tyson added, glaring at her with harder eyes than she'd ever seen before, "I'd probably be better off without you."

Hilary gasped as though she'd been plunged under ice-cold water, or shot, or something equally as painful. Tyson had about a split second to see tears of hurt and betrayal well up in her dark eyes before she turned on the spot and ran away, back towards the main building. As soon as she'd left, he'd regretted everything he'd said. But he didn't have time to process that any further, because Max had gripped him by the shirt then shoved him away – and made contact with his torn up shoulder.

"Well done, Tyson. You've really gone and done it now," he shouted. His blue eyes, normally so carefree and kind, were narrowed in rebuke. He looked close to tears himself. "I hope you're happy." Before Tyson could reply, he'd stormed off too, in the same direction that Hilary had.

Kai crossed his arms and glared down at Tyson. Kenny shuffled around in the awkward silence. Rei opened his mouth to speak, but Tyson interrupted.

"Whatever," he spat.

Then he put his fists in his pockets and stormed away too, in the opposite direction, ignoring Rei who followed after him and muttering to himself the entire time.

* * *

Max sat down on the bench and looked sadly up towards the dark clouds forming overhead. _Man, even the weather is throwing a fit today_ , he thought, remembering the sunny blue skies of just a couple hours ago. He set down the tray of food he was holding – two cheeseburgers, one without pickles (for Hilary), one soda, one orange juice, one side salad (also Hilary) and a side of fries.

He searched everywhere for Hilary this afternoon, but she was nowhere to be found. Not back in their dorm, or in any of the bathrooms, or the common room. She wasn't in the little roof-garden. No one else had seen her since earlier this morning – he'd asked everyone he saw, even Bryan of the Blitzkrieg Boys. When he tried ringing her cell phone, someone else picked it up instead – Mariam.

"Hey," she'd said, very casually for someone answering someone else's phone.

"Umm… Hilary?" he asked, although the voice clearly wasn't hers.

"Oh, I was wondering who this phone belonged to," she replied, sounding amused.

Max went to meet her in the common room – turns out she left it plugged in to charge. He briefly explained that Hilary had a bit of a fight with Tyson again and he was worried that she was upset, but he tried to avoid telling Mariam too much. After all, this time next week she'd be the competition. The Bladebreakers needed to put forward a strong front.

So now here he was, at dinner, sat alone on one of the outside benches, anxiously staring out into the horizon and twisting Hilary's phone around in his nervous hands. It had been three hours since she stormed off, and nobody had any idea where she was. The only thing that Max could think of is that she'd stormed off for a long walk to think – it was something she tended to do back home in Bakuten whenever she and Tyson argued. And they argued a lot. Usually it was over something stupid, like homework or group projects at school, sometimes training, sometimes his obsession with comics or her obsession with horoscopes and fortune telling. But today… today was bad. Hilary's heart was always in the right place and Tyson threw it on the ground and stepped all over it today. He really could be an idiot sometimes.

He shook his head again and looked sadly at the cheeseburgers. He didn't know why he got them. Worry for Hilary's absence was twisting his stomach. He wasn't even hungry.

"…Are you gonna eat those?"

Max turned and spotted Tyson hovering on the other side of the bench, looking guilty. _Good,_ Max thought, _he should._ He decided to draw out his bad mood, for Tyson's benefit. He needed to understand that he'd screwed up today.

Max shook his blonde curls around. "I'm not hungry," he replied dismissively, looking away from Tyson to gaze anxiously at the horizon again.

"Aw, come on, Maxi, don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"You know what."

"No, I've got no clue."

Tyson sighed dramatically and shuffled around. He took a step back, then two steps forward. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He folded his arms, then reached up to fiddle with his cap, his foot tapping with agitation. He sat down on the bench and looked between Max and the trees, then towards Max again. He leant forwards and held his head in his hands.

"Don't give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Tyson," Max spat, still not looking at his best friend. "Just spit it out."

Tyson fiddled with his hat some more. "I'm sorry," he said eventually.

Max continued glaring out towards the line of trees. "For what?"

In the silence that followed, Max glanced over wondering if Tyson had heard him. The navy haired teen was sitting there, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Really Max?" he asked skeptically. "Are we seriously gonna do this?"

"Yeah," Max said, folding his arms stubbornly. "We are."

Tyson groaned. "Look, I already know that I was a total loser and a complete jerk earlier, okay? You don't have to draw it out. I already feel bad enough. Rei tore into me right after you left, and Kai's been giving me the cold shoulder all afternoon. Even Kenny told me to 'get lost' when I went to ask for Dragoon. So don't you start. Please."

"Yeah, because it's all about you, Tyson."

"Arrgh, that's the point, Maxi, it is! Don't you get it?" he leapt to his feet, growling through his pent up frustration and pacing around again. "Everyone's going to be watching us at the tournament – watching me! Wanting to see my new moves and tricks. Waiting for me to slip up and make a mistake. I'm a world champion, Max. And I can't even make Dragoon do a basic turn. _Kai_ can control Dranzer without looking now, and _you_ weren't having any trouble in the dish! It's just me! I'm the only one that can't do it! And the pressure is on – the tournament starts next week! I can't afford to be the weak link, Max! And every time I think about it, it just gets worse!"

"…Are you finished?" Max asked, pretending to sound uninterested and unconcerned by Tyson's tirade. In reality, Max watched Tyson carefully throughout, noting the way his voice went from furious to doubtful to defeated.

Max felt for his friend, he really did. Truthfully, Tyson was in the public eye more than either he or Rei. The only person who was perhaps more famous was Kai – but he was already a bit of a public figure before they teamed up, so he already knew how to handle it.

Tyson was new to the pressure. The attention was great. The fame was great. But the expectation to live up to his name was beginning to wear on him, and this was the first time he'd have to properly defend his title in front of thousands and thousands of people. Sure, this _wasn't_ the world championships and their title _wasn't_ at stake, but their reputation was. And Max understood this. He knew that Tyson was stressed. And he knew that Tyson was sorry now. But that still didn't excuse for being such a jerk.

"…Yeah," Tyson answered, sighing heavily and sitting back down on the bench again. "I'm done."

"Good," Max said simply, leaning back and losing his shoulders a bit. "And I forgive you. But it's not me you need to apologise to."

He sighed again. "Yeah… I know."

"Hilary didn't deserve any of that."

"I know."

"And she still hasn't come back," Max said.

"…What?"

"I haven't seen her since she left. I'm starting to get worried."

Tyson bit his lip nervously. "Maybe I should call her."

"Already tried." Max wiggled Hilary's little pink blackberry at him. "She left it in the common room," he said in explanation.

Tyson continued to chew his lip. Max was on the verge of telling him to chew on the cheeseburger instead before he hurt himself, but before he had the chance, Kai came striding towards them. He made a show of ignoring Tyson completely. Although, that wasn't anything too out of the ordinary.

"Any sign?" Kai asked.

Max shook his head. "No," he said sadly.

Kai narrowed his crimson eyes and glared up at the sky. "Looks like rain."

Tyson looked between Kai and the grey clouds looming overhead, thought of Hilary's absence, and seemed to shrink with guilt.

* * *

Hilary wiped the tears from her cheeks and kept walking. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Just keep moving.

She tried to ignore the way that everything, _everything_ looked the same. She tried to ignore the way that her head ached from all the tears. She even tried to ignore the way that her lungs seem to have stopped working – her breath kept coming in short, stuttering, incomplete bursts, as though she couldn't draw the right amount of breath in. As though there was a puncture there, or some kind of blockage.

She definitely tried to ignore the words spinning around in her head. If she paid any attention to them, it would only start the tears again. And then she wouldn't be able to see, which meant she wouldn't be able to find her way out of this forest.

 _You're useless. I've had it with you. You're a stupid, no-nothing little girl. I don't need your help._

 _I'd be better off without you._

Well, Tyson would have his way if she never found her way out of this damned forest, she thought scornfully, wiping at her cheeks again.

She just couldn't get over the look in his eyes. Full of derision and contempt and scorn. Could he really hate her that much? What she really that much of a nuisance? _Was_ she useless?

Hilary thought of Max and Rei, and how they jumped to her defense. Max said that since she joined them, they'd been blading better than ever. But Tyson clearly didn't share that sentiment. And maybe he was right. After all, what _did_ she know about beyblading? She had no idea about the inner-workings of the sport. She couldn't launch a blade. She couldn't dismantle one or put it back together. She didn't know how a launcher worked. She couldn't devise strategies or win a battle. What was she even doing, overseeing their training before a tournament when she clearly knew _nothing?_

She _was_ useless.

But she just never knew that… that Tyson _actually_ thought of her that way.

Hilary's folded her arms around her chest in response to the pain there. The forest began to blur again.

He said that he would be better off without her, and that was the worst. Because she honestly couldn't say the same in return. Ever since she joined up with Tyson and Max, her life had been filled with so much colour. Suddenly, everything was exciting and dramatic and thrilling. She loved the early morning runs on the beach and late night soaks in the dojo's little onsen. She loved slurping noodles together at Kenny's place and talking girl-stuff about the boys with Dizzi. More recently, she'd loved getting to know Rei and finding a common ally in Kai. In the Bladebreakers, she'd found somewhere that felt like home. Somewhere she felt like she belonged.

Somewhere that Tyson didn't want her anymore.

Hilary shivered as the temperature dropped with the oncoming darkness. At first she was confused. Even though the canopy of trees above her was dense, she was sure she couldn't have missed the sunset. She'd gotten used to the burning, warm glow of it each evening. It was beautiful and vivid. It would have bathed everything in its golden light, even down here, beneath the trees. But today, the light had just grown steadily darker, instead. It was puzzling.

Until she heard the first of the rainfall.

It sounded distant, at first. Far off, and isolated, as if she was indoors. But slowly, it trickled down the canopy and gathered in the pines, eventually falling in concentrated drops upon her head and into her confused, outstretched palms, a tiny rain of bombs, cold and wet.

Clouds. That would excuse the rain, and the darkness.

As the sound of the rain grew heavier, she began to panic. She couldn't be lost in the woods all night if it was going to rain. She couldn't afford to be lost in the woods all night, period.

Hilary quickened her pace through the trees, frantically trying to orient herself towards the training retreat. But she couldn't for the life of her remember where it was. Everything was green and rocky, here. Everything looked the same.

Stupid girl! Why couldn't she have just stayed on one of the paths? Why couldn't she have taken her phone with her? Why didn't she have a better sense of direction? She was _useless_!

With the sound of a rumble of thunder, Hilary began to run. She didn't care that she was lost. She didn't care that she was wet. She didn't care that she was mad at Tyson and that he'd torn her confidence to shreds. She just ran, thinking only about getting out of the woods and out of the storm.

She wasn't paying attention to the trees around her. She wasn't paying attention to where her feet fell. She didn't see the root that twisted up and out of the ground until it was too late. Breathless, the ground rushed up to meet her face and she held her hands out to break the fall.

There were two sharp pains; the first was in her wrist, the second was in her head.

Then everything went black.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Hey guys, it's me! As a little treat, while you're waiting for the second installment of Only The Young, I've devised a couple one-shots that take place during the two-week training retreat. This one will probably be a two/three part story because, hey, queen of waffle here! I don't want to throw a thirty page document at you all at once!_

 _Hope you've had a good week and, as always, let me know what you think about the story! Bye for now!_

 _~ Indie_


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